


A Friendly Reminder (in all shapes and sizes)

by sugarsubstitute



Series: Katsuki-Nikiforov (or Adoption AU) [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, adoption au, but i thought it would be best to rate it anyway, gets pretty dialogue heavy near the end, i'll write something cute and fluffy with no angst one day i promise!!!, im gonna say it's been at least six months since yuri started staying with yuuri and victor, it's only mentioned once or twice and is quite brief, makkachin is best dog, rated for implied/referenced past child abuse, this fic is so long why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarsubstitute/pseuds/sugarsubstitute
Summary: Breakfast time was one of Yuri’s favourite times of day because everyone would be together… and also because of pancakes. Mostly the togetherness, but pancakes were a prominent factor.Yuri enjoys living this normal life with Yuuri and Victor, and doesn't want anything to change, because nothing ever needed to change. So, when he overhears something that brings scary shadows from the corners of his mind, he resolves that the only solution was to run away and allow Yuuri and Victor's lives to become happy again. Or, at least that was the plan; but a certain huge ball of fluff with a slobbering tongue and four legs seemed to butt his way into it.





	A Friendly Reminder (in all shapes and sizes)

As Yuri padded his bare feet down the hallway another two pairs of furry feet pawed just by his ankles. Tiredly, he rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, having only just woken up at the gentle slobbering of canine saliva on his cheek and then urged out of bed by the smell of breakfast; as while he valued his sleep more than the average six-year-old should he was still driven primarily by food, specifically Yuuri’s cooking, and so he slowly plodded down the stairs, holding to the handrail like he has been told to do, with Makkachin at his heels.

Breakfast time was one of Yuri’s favourite times of day because everyone would be together… and also because of pancakes. Mostly the togetherness, but pancakes were a prominent factor. Victor and Yuuri weren’t usually that busy during the day, and recently they’ve been around a lot more to eat and play with him. Sometimes he did like to be by himself, like when he would take to watching cartoons on Victor’s iPad when he starts to become bored and fed up; but he would always then go and insist on helping Yuuri make dinner - and making a mess of it - or taking Makkachin out on walks with Victor, because he found that he felt even worse being away from everyone for too long. When they were together they all liked to colour, watch movies, play games; and sometimes they both would give him skating lessons on the lake a couple of minutes’ walk from their house, which was very special as usually only one of them was free from daily chores to spend the time to teach him each day. It would be full of laughter, encouragement, cheers, and eventually red, runny noses and a couple of bruises that would be healed through kisses and hot chocolate. Those were the times Yuri liked most of all, when they were all together; and he felt like he had been able to grow used to such feelings. 

He lazily blew a stray hair that fell in front of his face, navigating his way to the kitchen, the source of the breakfast smell, with his eyes barely open. It was a normal morning, which was just how Yuri liked it. His usual breakfast food, his usual timing, and of course his usual morning hugs and kisses; all were expected.

Key word: expected.

 

Yuri had grown used to these normal mornings, and liked things staying normal. It was important that they stayed normal, because he didn’t want anything to change. He didn’t want things to stop being the way they were. They couldn’t.

So, when Yuri turned the corner, and heard two loud voices coming from the kitchen, hammering at each other back and forth, he felt a sudden rush of needles up his spine. He froze.

“Victor, you’re not even listening to a word I’m saying!”

“I _am_ , Yuuri! I am, I’m trying!”

“You’re _not!_ I’ve told you time and time again, and just look!”

“I’ve told you, I’ll do them, okay?”

“Why are they still here then?”

“I—it just slipped my mind, all right?”

“You forgot? Victor, it’s the one thing I ask--”

“Look, I’ll do them right now, _happy?_ ”

A clang and surge of water. Yuri had backed up against a wall, his pupils dilated, his chest heaving in and out, gasping for air that didn’t seem to be available in the vast quantity that he, at that moment, desperately needed. His fringe stuck thickly to his forehead, his neck was flushed red, and he tried to swallow down the pounding heart that caught itself in his throat. 

Those voices, and the shadows formed in the far corner of his mind at hearing those voices, twisted his guts into double knots.

Managing to rediscover his feet, he fell forward as he burst into a sprint to distance himself. He scuttled on the floor before finding his footing and bolting back up the stairs, with Makkachin in tow.

 

In his room, he sank down to his knees as he shut the door with as much subtlety as possible. There, he felt like he could breathe again somewhat. 

They were fighting. They were mad at each other. They hated each other. 

Yuuri and Victor weren’t _supposed_ to hate each other. It wasn’t normal.

Why… _why_ did they do that? 

What if they _kept_ doing that?

What if they just kept fighting and getting madder and hated each other more and more?

What would he do?

Makkachin pressed his wet nose against Yuri’s cheek, making Yuri aware of the spikey feeling in his eyes. He squeezed them shut.

They never seemed to hate each other before. When they would come to visit him, they would stand close and smile all the time. 

So why now? Nothing changed since then, right?

The only thing that has changed since they first came to visit… was that he had started living in their house.

Yuri’s eyes shot open. 

That meant… it was all his fault, and now Victor and Yuuri hated each other.

Yuri looked down in shame, the butterflies in his stomach formed teeth and bit down as Makkachin licked at his nose.

As he sat in silence, trying not to think of what could be happening downstairs, he decided he must fix everything.

 

Makkachin lied on Yuri’s bed, batting his tail against the covers as Yuri threw his little bag on the bed. It had been a while since he had to pack that bag, not including the times he packed a few activities to keep him still when they went on long car journeys. He hummed, putting a finger to his lips as he thought of the important things he would need to pack. Conscious of time, knowing that in a little bit either Victor or Yuuri would come up to bring him down for food, he needed to think fast, and only pack essentials.

 

First, he shoved in his colouring pencils and colouring pad, not checking to see if all the pencils were there (as sometimes they could end up strewn down the side of his bed, or under the sofa).

Second, he picked up his skates, making sure the guard was secure, as he was always told to, forcing them in afterwards.

Then, he packed some extra socks.

He picked up a cuddly cat toy. He dropped it. Where he was going he wouldn’t need any baby stuff. Looking down, he then remembered. Victor and Yuuri had taken him out for the first time, to go get ice cream. 

No one had ever taken him out for ice cream before. 

He told them that, and they ended up walking around the town, where they allowed him to talk for who knows how long about things he himself couldn’t even remember, with chocolate around his mouth. He ended up getting so carried away with his monologue that he didn’t even notice that they were walking in and out of stores until Victor had called his name and held out a white, furry toy whose whiskers curled up from its cheeks and fur tickled his face and whose eyes were as wide as his had grown. Victor and Yuuri smiled down at him as he looked up at them with stars dancing in whirling seas of green. 

No one had ever given him a present before. 

He picked up the toy from where he dropped it and hugged it close to his chest, before tucking it nicely into the bag and zipping it up, leaving a small gap for Kitty to breathe.

With that, he was ready.

 

He snuck down the stairs, where the familiar clinging of plates and pans rung from the kitchen, as if nothing had happened. Maybe they would start again in the next second, Yuri could never tell with those kinds of voices.

He shuffled into the hallway, with his bag on his back, before making his way to the door. Usually, it was locked, but Yuri knew Victor would have recently taken out the rubbish, and may have left the door unlocked as there would be no use in having it locked during the day. He reached out for the handle, on his tip-toes, and tried to carefully open the door without too much noise, giving a small sigh of relief as the door begun to inch open.

With a way out into the open, he realised he had a chance to close the door, put his bag away and go have breakfast, like he did every day. He could allow things to go back to normal, to be together with everyone like they always were. He wanted to stay. Still… still he… he couldn’t let Yuuri and Victor keep hating each other because of him. He couldn’t let things go back to normal because they weren’t normal at all. They could never be normal if they didn’t like each other anymore; and Yuuri and Victor couldn’t hate each other, it just wasn’t right! Leaving was the only real option, he affirmed in his mind.

So, he squeezed through the gap, standing on his toes as he begun to pull the door to, staring further and further into the house, trying to see as much of it as possible before it closed off to him forever.

He had officially run away, but he found himself walking at a snail’s pace down the driveway. 

 

Now, Yuri was only little, so he didn’t exactly have a plan in mind. He wasn’t exactly the best navigator, and he never really paid much attention to the paths Victor and him walked down during their walks with Makkachin. 

Speaking of the dog, Makkachin had managed to squeeze through too, tongue lolling out gleefully as he walked in circles around Yuri’s legs. The boy quickly whipped his head, haven not even noticed the dog following him. Stomping his foot and pointing at the house, he tried to make the dog go back inside, but Makkachin only stood on his hind legs and licked at Yuri’s head in return, prompting a groan of disgust from the boy. The poodle then returned to standing on four legs, circled around a few times, and then began to walk forward, looking back every now and then. Yuri called out to him, before he grumbled and chased after him, wherever it was he was being taken. 

Victor had told Yuri that dogs were the some of the best natural navigators. They could learn entire walk patterns, allowing them to be trained as guide and police dogs, as it often turned out that dogs could lead the way better than most humans ever could. Thus, they never needed to use a lead with Makkachin during their walks, as he would never escape from them or try and steer them from their designated paths. However, Victor had also said that leads were unnecessary because Makkachin was at the highest standards of loyalty, never giving up the chance to stand by his owner’s side. Last week Makkachin had chewed up one of Victor’s favourite slippers.

He shook his head. He couldn’t keep thinking about them. He huffed and surged forward as the dog casually padded down a scar of dirt and sticks. 

 

The dog kept taking these twists and turns that inflicted a flicker of familiarity in Yuri’s head, but they were short lived as he squashed them down and instead tried to keep up and not distract himself any further. The path they were trailing down was gravelly, narrow, and free from typical pedestrian litter such as cigarettes or fast food wrappers. Despite this, he found that he was having to pace himself, as he was still wearing his cat slippers, and was unable to run or walk quickly without them slipping off. Walking down the path, with Makkachin closely in front, allowed the first nips of the early morning wind to bite at his nose. Victor and Yuuri would have told him to take a coat, and would have never let him out of the house until he was wrapped cosily in at least, a scarf, a hat, and gloves. He wiped his nose. In a while it would be sunny anyway, so it wouldn’t be all that cold, whenever that happened. 

A chilling gust caught itself in the back of his throat, taking him aback, before he shook it away and forced his way through it. 

Was it even supposed to be sunny today? If so, how long would it be until it was? As a matter of fact, how long had he even been outside for? His only real method of telling time was dependent on what was happening inside. When he was woken up, it was breakfast, when he was dressed and fed it was time for Makkachin’s walk, when they came home it was snack time, when he heard his name called it was lunch time, and so on. He had no way of telling how long he’s been away for, or if Victor and Yuuri even knew he was gone. 

If they did… what would they do? Or… would it… even matter? He shook himself. 

 

A bark plucked his attention out from the cloud he had it caught in, and looked up. He looked around. Raindrops hung haphazardly from frosted stalks of grass, clinging on despite the chill; and even though the fall would only be a few centimetres the shivering droplets clasped the blowing blades as if they were about to plummet into a gorge. A few stubborn leaves, still lying around from the long gone autumn, rotted in scattered areas of the wide plane of the field. Gushes of the crisp morning air pushed itself into the bare arms of the encircling trees, making them thrash around violently. The wind blew heavily across his face, sweeping his fringe in front of his eyes.

This was where they would go when they took Makkachin on walks.

Makkachin was bolting his way around the field like an Olympic athlete looping around the track. Yuri watched as his tongue lolled out, joyfully barking despite the great wind acting against his movements. He would always act like this whenever they came here, the dumb dog, always so excited over nothing. Yuri tucked his hands into the sleeves of his pajama top.

There didn’t seem to be any people around, which Yuri supposed was a good thing, as it meant there wouldn’t be any strangers who would try to talk to him – and he’s not supposed to talk to strangers. It also meant that he could be alone, which he liked sometimes. 

A small, dry patch of grass, shielded by a thick grouping of tree branches, became his resting stop. He unloaded his backpack, which had begun to work aches into his shoulders, and sat with his feet pointed outwards, watching Makkachin continue to bark and chase the fleeing morning birds.

 

Usually, after breakfast was when they would come here, because it would be warmer. Even so, neither of them would leave the house until Yuuri was satisfied that they were coated with a sufficient number of layers – even when Victor would jokingly remind him of their cold-resistant Russian blood. The sun would have peaked up far enough to cast an orange glow on their faces, and Victor would hold his hand to assure he wouldn’t go astray. 

He held his hands together and brought his knees to his chest.

Victor would tell him stories about his days in professional figure skating, as Yuri would always ask, and would sometimes repeat the same anecdotes as he must have forgotten that he had already told them. Yuri wouldn’t mind, though. 

When they would get to this field Makkachin would do what he was doing right then – chasing around and letting out flurries of enthusiastic barking. Victor would laugh in amusement. He would then take to play catch with the dog, and Yuri would stand in awe at the great lengths Victor could throw the small tennis ball.

Makkachin wondered over to where Yuri was sitting. The boy scrunched his nose, and turned away. The dog followed the direction his head was turning, smacking his tail against  
the ground and panting; sounding tired but the erratic movements he made said otherwise. Yuri scowled. That dog.

What did he want? Go away. 

Makkachin sat on the ground, still for a few moments but then suddenly rose and began nosing at Yuri’s backpack. Yuri snatched it away. 

Couldn’t that dog quit bothering him? Yuri said that to the dog.

Makkachin licked his nose with his tongue, and then continued to wag his tail. Yuri let out an angered noise, gripping his hair. 

What did that dog want from him? He furrowed his brow.

Victor would know what he wanted.

Yuri huffed. Of course Victor would know. Of course they would know. Didn’t they always know everything? They were so smart and kind, so cool and perfect; and what were they now!? Ever since he came along things had changed. Before, they skated all the time. They would compete in huge competitions that would be held all over the world, they would be on TV and perform in front of crowds of thousands! What seemed like hundreds of trophies and medals would hang themselves from the walls in practically every room, polished so that they reflected everything that walked pass them in silver and gold. Before, they must have had fun knowing they could continue winning trophies and medals or whatever forever. Before, they must have been flying all around the world and having all sorts of adventures. Before, they could do whatever they wanted.

Now… now they knew the number of medals and trophies they had would stay stagnant. Now, they remain in the same little town all the time. Now, they had look after him.

Yuri thought that before… before they must have been happy. Now… now… now… they weren’t. How could they be? They had to follow the same routine every day, they had to teach him to skate instead of being able to skate themselves, and they were fighting. Why would they…. How could they fight with each other unless they hated each other, unless they weren’t happy? 

It must be his fault. There was no other explanation. To look after him they had to give up what they loved, and that must have made them unhappy. If it weren’t for him, they’d still be happy. If it weren’t for them taking him out for ice cream and buying him that stupid toy…

Yuri stuck his hand into his bag, grabbing the plush cat out of the backpack. He gripped it into his hand. Grunting, he launched it away from him as hard as he could. 

He rubbed his nose, bringing his knees up tighter and curling into himself. 

 

Something soft nudged his hand, and he blinked heavily, raising his head. 

In the mouth of the poodle, who was wagging his tail proudly, was the small cat toy, held gently between his jaws. He mooched closer, dropping it at Yuri’s feet. 

Yuri grumbled. Stupid dog. He didn’t want it anymore. With more gusto than before, he launched it hard across the field, before curling up again.

He was nudged again. The dog had brought it back again, his panting muffled by the soft plush. 

Get it away, he didn’t want it. Yuri threw it again.

He brought it back.

Get it away! He threw it again.

Stop it! He threw it again.

He brought it back.

He didn’t want it! He threw it.

He brought it back.

Please, just leave it alone! He threw it.

He brought it back.

He didn’t need it! He threw it.

He brought it back.

Stop going after it! He threw it.

He brought it back.

It’s useless! He threw it.

He brought it back.

It’s stupid! He threw it.

He brought it back.

It’s not needed! He threw it.

He brought it back.

He didn’t need it! He threw it.

He brought it back.

He didn’t deserve it! He threw it.

He brought it back.

He didn’t deserve them! He threw it.

He brought it back.

They didn’t need him! He threw it.

He brought it back.

They didn’t need him at all! He threw it, but found that he had merely dropped it before him with a sad, wet splat. 

 

Makkachin pawed over, picking it up with his mouth, before placing it into Yuri’s hands and sitting next to him.

Yuri held the cat toy in his hands. After all the abuse the little thing had just faced, its face was grazed with dirt, and slightly damp with the dog’s saliva. Victor and Yuuri didn’t need something like him to be happy. He didn’t want them to be unhappy.

Even so, he found himself holding tightly to the toy, letting his legs stretch out slowly. Even though they didn’t need him… even though they would do so much better without him… 

He still missed them.

Yuri could no longer see the cat toy, as his eyes became thickly clouded with steaming tears. Even though he wasn’t needed, he missed them. Even though he had wanted the best for them, he missed them. Even though he wasn’t supposed to, he wanted to be with them.

He wanted to go back.

The cat toy was hugged tightly by Yuri, and at the sound of noisy sniffles Makkachin had lied his head on Yuri’s knees. His fur was warm. Warm like hot chocolates after practice, like the fireplace in the evenings, like the hugs Yuuri and Victor gave. 

Yuri bent his head down, and rubbed his face in Makkachin’s fur. It was soft, like candy-floss, like the blankets on movie night, like the kisses Yuuri and Victor gave.

The dog wagged his tail, and made soft breathing noises. It was comforting, like colourful plasters on his scrapped knees, like the comfy leather sofas, and like the bed time stories Yuuri and Victor gave.

Yuri hugged Makkachin. He began to tremble, the tips of his fingers becoming numb and cold. His lips had cracked and began to bleed slightly. Tears choked his throat, his nose ran and sniffed. The wind whistled harshly against his ears until they tinged red and created barriers against his hearing.

Right about now he would be having pancakes with Yuuri and Victor, and they would be laughing.

 

The dog moved from underneath him, having suddenly perked his head up with a quick, jerked motion. He wriggled out from Yuri’s grip, despite his protest. Yuri whined at the loss of the soft, brown locks and called out to him. Makkachin didn’t response however, as he had began padding around on the ground, cocking his ear up every so often. Yuri watched him with a confused frown and knitted eyebrows at his dog’s strange behaviour. Once he had circled around in one spot, he done it again but this time remained still, ear lifted, in a particular direction. Before Yuri could question him or call out, Makkachin had picked himself up from his position, dashing around Yuri’s seating spot, barking loudly and consistently. He ran around Yuri, nuzzling into his head and climbing over his lap, yapping so deafeningly it seemed like it could rival thunder. 

The boy covered his ears, yelling at him to stop, but the dog would do no such thing. Instead, he took off. Bounding his way across the field, Makkachin bolted away from him.

Yuri called out to him, telling him to come back, telling him to slow down, telling him to not leave him alone. He struggled to his feet, noticing how desensitised they had become, reaching his aching arm out for his backpack, only just being able to grab it by one strap and then dragged it across the wet grass as he attempted to hobble after the sprightly canine. It was difficult, however, as his legs were weak and heavy, seemingly cementing him to the dirt beneath him. Before he knew it, he had looked up and Makkachin had vanished from sight. 

Was he really all by himself now?

He stood in place for a while, finding that he had become unable to move. The fact that now he had no one. The fact that he was alone. That fact made his feet subdue, collapsing him as he fell onto his behind on the cold, hard ground. He blinked. He blinked. He blinked, and tears flicked off his eyelashes. They built up and fell down his cheeks in streams. 

Though he felt his eyes sting and his vision blur he just couldn’t find it in himself to wipe his tears. His fingers curled weakly into the toy cat’s fur, which had now darkened with grass stains and patches of dirt.

He sat, and cried. He had no energy to scream, yell, or anything else he would do when he was upset. He could only blubber out globs of tears that boiled down his quaking cheeks, his mouth quivering and choking.

He was hungry.

He was cold.

He was lonely. 

Please, come back.

 

A bark. Yuri whipped his head up. He turned his head from side-to-side, unsure of where it was coming from. His heart made a particularly bold jolt.

Another bark. Yuri found it somewhere within him, at the sound of the all-too familiar bark, to shift his position to sit upright on his knees.

Another sound rose up, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t a bark, but it was familiar. So familiar, in fact, that it made his ears perk and the hairs on his skin stand on edge. 

There was another different sound which made him find feeling in his feet and allow him to slowly pull himself up from the ground. 

The sounds blended together, overlapping one another, barks and calls, filling up the atmosphere, pumping the boy’s heart; and granted him the power to take a few tentative steps forward. 

Then, the sounds became more prominent, and some became voices.

_Bark!_

“Yura!?”

“Yuri!?”

Makkachin, Victor, Yuuri? His heart started to beat in his throat.

_Bark!_

“Yura!”

“Yuri!”

Makkachin, Victor, Yuuri. His feet moved by themselves.

_Bark!_

“Yura! Yura!”

“Yuri! Yuri!”

Makkachin, Victor, Yuuri! He barely touched the ground, he propelled himself towards the voices as they grew stronger and stronger.

A fluffy brown dog, panting heavily and circling the legs of two men, dashed his way through an opening of bushes that had led from a narrow path. Quickly following him were the two men. One with uncombed platinum hair, wearing his usual morning robe over his pajamas; and a second with messy, dark brown hair, odd socks, dressed in his sleeping shirt and bottoms. 

Yuri raised his arms and cried out, and they all immediately locked eyes. The leaded breathing that heaved at the men’s chests had abruptly stopped, their faces loosening from thorned expressions and becoming slackened. 

Everything seemed to freeze, if only just for a moment, before he broke through. Yuri began running, his feet never seeming to fully touch down before they were brought up again, his rucksack picking up dirt as it scraped up against the ground. The wind finally began to act in his favour, rushing against his back and seemingly creating a break in its path for him to scamper down. The aches he felt in his body were subdued by the greater force that drove him forward towards the arms stretched out by the men who had begun hurtling through, their feet pounding the ground like buffalos on a frenzied charge. They forced themselves through in order to breach the gap that had grown and narrow it down until nothing of it remained.

Once Yuri felt the touch of warm hands tuck themselves around him and pull him further into a force field of warm homeliness, he tightly closed his eyes and buried himself in tightly.

Their voices rang in his ears, leaving tingles as they rumbled around.

“Oh, _Yuri!_ ” was all that could be discerned from Yuuri, because after that his speech spilled into rapid ramblings that Yuri couldn’t understand, as they didn’t even seem to be anything like real words. He seemed to get his point across, whatever it was, by holding him tighter to his chest and wrapping the sides of his coat further around the both of them.

“We were so worried, we were so worried, Yura.” Victor spoke, his voice weird and wobbly like a toy with draining batteries.

Yuri would’ve spoke, if he could move his mouth and strain his voice any longer. All the screaming and yelling he had done were the last spurts of energy he could put out before they all fizzled out and left him only able to breath in and out. Yuuri held on to him tighter.

“Victor, he’s so cold. What do we do? What do we do? Oh _God_.” Yuuri tremored out with wet sniffles. The cold must have gotten to him too. 

“Yuuri, calm down. We need to stay _calm_ , okay? Everything will be okay. For now, we just need to get home as soon as possible.” Victor had reasoned, although his voice didn’t sound all that rational, as it sounded far too fast-paced and unevenly pitched.

“Yes. Okay.”

He could feel that he was being moved, but wasn’t moving himself. He was being held tightly, cocooned in warmth. 

“Yuri, don’t be afraid… anymore… okay? We’re here.”

While his head felt light, and his fingers cold and prickly, he was able to feel a glow build up at everyone’s close-ranged voices. He closed his eyes, and listened to their sharp breaths.

“We’re here.”

 

Soon after the door hit against the wall in a haste to get inside, Yuri was bounded indoors and he quickly felt his cheeks heat up as the insulated house rushed at his skin. Still in  
Yuuri’s arms, he was gently laid on the big cushy sofa in the living room, before being quickly stripped of all the cold pajamas he was wearing. Immediately, he felt relief at the riddance of them, and opened his eyes to see a thick, fluffy blanket being hurriedly unfolded and laid on top of him, coating him in a warm layer up to his neck, allowing his little face to poke out and blink skeptically up at the men who hovered over him, poised on their toes. 

He felt a hand on his forehead.

“It’s not as cold as before, but his skin is pinkish.” 

“I’ll get the thermometer.”

At the loss of Victor’s presence from his vision, Yuri whined.

“I know, I know. You’re being so good, Yuri.” Yuuri comforted, using the hand he had held to Yuri’s forehead to stroke his hair down from his forehead, smoothing his fringe up out of his face. 

Yuri was unsure why he was being praised. 

“Here, got it.” Victor called out, his voice coming close once again. 

His mouth was beckoned open, and something cold was put under his tongue.

After a few heavily packed moments, it was taken out.

“36.5°C.” Yuuri read out.

“It’s below…”

“Not badly… but…”

“Let’s make sure”

They made sure.

“36.5 again.” And then there was a choking noise.

“Yuuri, my love.” A hushed voice whispered. There were ruffling noises and then the choked noises were muffled until they were reduced down to heavy sniffles.

 

The air hung above thickly and time dragged itself until Yuri could feel them look at him. They began to speak lowly to each other, but Yuri focused on their words.

“Should we take him to the--”

“No.”

“V-victor--”

“We’re not doing that.”

“But what if--”

“It’s _not_.”

“B-but… Victor, listen to me.”

“I am, and I know that it’s not… it’s not…”

“You don’t know--” 

“Neither do you--”

“Look, look. Why don’t we just call the non-emergency line? They’ll be able to help us, and tell us whether we need to take him in or not.”

“Yuuri, I’m not… I _can’t_ \--”

“Well we might have to, and you’ll… you’ll have to try.”

Yuri blinked, allowing warm tears to trail down his face, his nose was heavy and stinging, his eyes spiking. Even after everything, even though he tried so hard to fix everything… the voices struck back and forth with each other. They were still arguing? …and now because of him being stupid and being found it was even worse than before. Why? Why… _Why_ were they still not happy?

 

Soft fingertips continued to drag his hand softly through Yuri’s hair, kneeling over him, while he spoke with a wavering calm to his tone into the phone.

“Y-yes, we’ve got him indoors, we took off his cold clothes and put blankets over him. We—yes, we checked his temperature several times… 36.5°C. He’s got almost cold-like symptoms, but he hasn’t said anything to us, which is unlike him; and he’s been silently crying but I don’t know if that’s because he’s a-a-fraid, conf-fused or i-in p-pain, I--” he breathed out slowly. “…No, this has never happened before - he’s never left the house without our knowing – he was only a few minutes’ walk away— huh? …No, that couldn’t have been it, our dog was with him and came to find us when we went out looking, so he… couldn’t have been— …I just want to know if I should bring him to the hospital or not… _Please_.”

While Yuuri listened intensely to whatever it was that was being said to him, Victor paced the living room, but stopped when Yuuri snapped his head in his direction. 

Yuuri then turned back to Yuri, his eyes large and watery. “Yes… Yes… Okay. Okay. Thank you. B-bye…” he said before ending the call. He breathed out slowly again.

“What did they say?” Victor immediately asked.

“Since his temperature wasn’t that low and his symptoms weren’t extreme they told us to wait and monitor him, and if he gets even worse or stops responding completely we are to take him in or call for an ambulance.”

“Is that… Good?”

“Well, we don’t have to bring him in, which is what you wanted, right?”

“Yuuri. You don’t have to put it like _that_.” Victor huffed.

“What else is there to say?” Yuuri sharply countered, ending his objection with his voice rising in pitch.

“I don’t know, just—…Yuuri…” Victor began before cutting himself off and letting whatever it was he wanted to say stop dead in its tracks.

Yuuri sniffed, returning to the perimeter within Yuri’s eye-sight, kneeling to stroke his luke-warm cheek. “If our Yuri really ran away… What does that say about us?” he aired. 

His face was swelled red, significantly around the eyes, which puffed over the sore glassy orbs, and the nose, which had become shiny and round like a decorative bauble. It was as If he had an ailment that had kept him deprived of sleep, or a terrible nightmare that haunted his soul so much that it drove the life-force out of him. He looked icky. Shakily,  
Yuuri held Yuri’s face in his tentative silken hands, his bottom lip quivering, looking at him in the eye and then down again. 

“I-if I-I’ve d-done o-o-or s-said s-someth-thing that… m-made y-you u-unh-happy or…”

No… No… No, never. Never would Yuuri ever be able to do that. His neck got stratchy and his eyes stung.

Yuuri gulped down heavily as if he were trying to swallow something that crawled up his throat. “I-if… y-you… _h-hate_ m-me--”

“--Don’t talk like that.” A voice suddenly cut in, causing Yuri to realise that Victor had situated himself behind Yuuri as he kneeled at Yuri’s side, nestling his nose in the crook of the be-speckled man’s neck. “Yuri may not like a lot of things: naps, getting into the bath, getting out of the bath, carrots, peanuts, wasps, bread crusts – and more, but Yuri has never and will never, _ever_ , hate you. You’re too wonderful to be hated by anyone.”

Yuuri let out a weighted hum of amusement, blinking as his eyes watered. “Says you.”

“Exactly, says me, the luckiest man in the world, who must have done something incredibly self-sacrificing in his past life to unlock the ultimate joy of marrying and starting a family with someone as incredible as you.” 

Yuuri sniffed, his mouth wobbling as if it were deciding whether or not to permit itself to curve its corners upwards. “You’re… you’re t-terrible, Vitya.”

“And you’re lovely. Besides… if anyone’s to blame for this…”

A quickly denying tone took over. “V-victor, no…”

“If I had paid more attention to him that morning… if I had watched him like I should have done…”

A rapid shake of the head. “That’s not--”

“Maybe then I would’ve seen something happen, and have been able to stop Yura – both of you – from being hurt in any way.”

“That’s not your burden to shoulder yourself with--”

“—if I had done as you asked—“

“Victor please don’t tell me--”

“And done those… _stupid_ dishes when you asked me to instead of avoiding it, then maybe--”

 

Wait… what? Yuri whipped his head.

Yuuri had turned his head in disbelief, directing his conversation entirely to the man who had now hung his head over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Victor, are you seriously saying that you putting off having to wash the dishes resulted in disappearance of our child?”

“What else could it be, Yuuri?” Victor whined. “If I had done them before, I could’ve woken up Yura myself, and doing so would’ve meant that I wouldn’t have walked upstairs to… find him gone.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is…”

Yuuri turned his face back in Yuri’s direction, slowly encircling his little hand with his thumb, but he drifted his eyes down sullenly. “No… I was the one who told you to do them. I kept... nagging you. I must’ve made you want to avoid it.”

“That’s not true.” Victor shot up, so now Yuri could see how Victor’s eyes were also puffy and sore with redness. He shook his head at Yuuri’s words. “You wouldn’t have had to tell me if I had taken on the responsibility.”

“They were just dirty plates, Victor!” Yuuri struggled to mellow his husband’s resolve.

“Plates that I was supposed to wash, and I couldn’t even do that! Let alone… keep my family safe.” Victor uttered before raising his head to watch Yuri’s face with eyes that very quickly began to gloss over. “I’m sorry, Yura. I’m sorry, Yuuri. I wasn’t able to prevent this from happening, I wasn’t able to find Yura before he got ill, I wasn’t able to stop Yuuri from crying, I wasn’t able to keep my cool, I wasn’t able to get over my fears… I failed you both.” He spilled with a stiff smile on his face that looked as if it had been glued on or moulded from what it should have originally become, likely because it greatly conflicted the steady stream of tears that sloped down his cheeks, betraying his desired facial expression.

Yuri had never seen Victor cry before. 

“Victor… Victor it’s not your fault. It’s… it’s not.” Yuuri sniffled, heaving his breath.

“It is.” Victor wept, his shoulders shaking.

“It’s n-not.” Yuuri stammered, reaching to hold his husband’s tremoring hand. 

“It is.” Victor snivelled. 

That was when clusters of large tears dripped from Yuuri’s face, streaking his skin with stains he didn’t seem to want to wipe away. “I-it’s n-n-not.” He cried, his words watered down to a mere quiver of a voice. 

Yuri had never seen Yuuri cry before.

It seemed that Victor couldn’t even reply, as his mouth became drowned with quiet tears.

Yuuri gasped for breath as he choked. 

Then, they moved suddenly, swiftly swivelling round to grip onto each other, grasping for a hold, as they muffled each other’s sobs. Yuuri’s right hand remained in Yuri’s, while the left tightly curled around Victor’s waist; the silent sufferer had thrown his arms around Yuuri’s neck. They shook through waves, all the while keeping each other afloat, tethering themselves to Yuri. 

They stayed like that for a while they eventually sedated their emotions down to sniffling and deep breathing, continuing to embrace one another.

That just didn’t make sense, though, and Yuri could feel his body heat up.

After what felt like an energy-draining century, Yuuri spoke first: “Don’t blame yourself, please. Vitya I love you, okay. I love Yuri. I love you and Yuri more than anything in the world.”

What?

“I love you both too. I love you both.” 

Huh?

“I love you.”

That didn’t…

“I love you.”

But it didn’t…!

 

Feeling something catch itself tightly on his heart, Yuri bolt himself upright. As he did so, the blood rushed from his brain, reminding him of his aching body, causing him to wince and quickly gain the attention of the men who were agape with glassy eyes and pink faces. Before they could reach out for him he tore his hand away from Yuuri’s grip and held himself up against the back cushion of the sofa. 

His face was wet and his fingers bunching up in his hair. He snivelled and shook his head.

Yuri’s throat clawed at itself. “That doesn’t make any _sense!_ ” he ripped through, shaking his head adamantly. 

“Yuri?” Yuuri asked, momentarily in shock before he reached out again. “Yuri, sweet, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” he tried, though he was ultimately taken aback.

“You’re wrong! You both are! Everything you’re doing doesn’t make any sense!” the boy yelled.

Victor, letting out a shaky breath, held firmly – but not roughly – onto Yuri’s wrists. “Yura, we can’t understand you right now, you’re not feeling very well--”

“ _Shut up!_ Shut up, shut up shut up shut up!” Yuri struggled. “Just tell me why!”

“Tell you what, Yuri? Tell us so we know how to make it better.”

“Why…” Yuri puzzled. “Why… why… why are you both…” he steamed, still not finding it in himself to fully boil over. Instead of fuming anger his emotions were instead fuelled by confusion and desperation, amounting into a despair that rendered him incapable of even being able to understand what he was even doing in the first place. 

_Why? Why? Why?_

It’s never been like this before, never. _Never_. 

Being a boy who is used to consistency, and is now being shown love, which turned out not to be as opaque as first imagined, but had not become completely blackened either? It didn’t make sense.

What was this? This… this… 

Fighting or not, which was it?

A Kiss or push, which was it?

Love or hate, which was it?

A shadow loomed over his head, shadowing his mind.  
The soap or the belt, which was it?

 

He was being hugged.

Hugged?

Hug?

 _H-u-g_. That’s how you spell that word. Yuuri and Victor would hug him if he had spelt ‘hug’ correctly, wouldn’t they?

But instead Yuuri and Victor were hugging him for no reason.

And, though his eyes burnt, he hugged them back.

 

Cuddling him softly as to not crowd him but enough to surround Yuri with comfort, the tears simmered until he was crying just to remind himself that he was back in their arms again.

Even though he was still dazed and confused, he was in their arms, and that made him calm down enough to be able to hear everyone speak again.

“Yura, can you tell us now?”

“If you think you’re able to.”

Yuri hiccuped. He snuggled deeper into Yuuri’s chest.

“That’s okay, Yura, there’s no rush”

Yuri’s brain felt dizzy; he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Even though he felt so prickled and guilty that he felt like it all could swallow and slurp him up whole, the pillowed safety nets encircling him allowed him to feel as if he could say the truth without the fear of being devoured. 

“I… ran away, didn’t I?” He whispered, but once the words were cast into the air he sensed that it was as if he had just yelled in their ears.

He felt them stiffen, and he immediately felt regret. 

Now that he had revealed the reason for his disappearing act, there was no longer a need to hold back. He was going to be truthful, and let them know what he had done. It was only right. For ruining everything, he needed to own up for everything he’s done: why he decided to leave, why he made everyone worried, and why he made them cry. Then, they’d know that… they really would be better off without him.

“I didn’t want you two to fight anymore!” Yuri finally admitted, peeling his face from Yuuri’s shirt to stare between the both of them, watching their confusingly shocked expressions.

“Fight?” Victor questioned, causing Yuri to point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah! You two were fighting this morning!” Yuri declared. He pointed at Yuuri. “You were all like ‘you’re not even listening to a word I’m saying’,” he then directed his pointing to Victor, “and you were all like ‘I’ve told you, I’ll do them’; and making loads of loud noises!” 

At getting no response, Yuri shrivelled up slightly. “I thought that you two loved each other, so you wouldn’t fight… and I thought about it once I ran back upstairs, and I realised that you hate each other now because you can’t skate anymore and have to look after me instead, so I ran away so you could be happy again.” He scrunched his nose up. “But then you said you loved each other again, even though I was there and you were both crying. So, now I’m not sure if you like each other or not.” He finished, looking up again. “Now, I figure that you can hate me instead, because I don’t want you to fight with each other anymore…”

However, when he looked between them this time, their faces were struck with pain. He widened his eyes. He had done something wrong again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make anyone upset. I’ll never run away again, not ever. I just… want you both to be _happy_.” He fidgeted, ending his talk by putting his hands on his lap and making himself small.

Then, a soothing voice broke through. “Kitten, look at me.”. At the use of the nickname, Yuri quickly got his attention peaked. 

Yuuri continued: “We’re not upset. Not even the slightest bit.”

The boy’s eyes widened again, only to look down and crunch his face in bafflement.

“We don’t hate each other, and we don’t hate you.”

“But--”

“Yura, listen… Sometimes, adults who love each other can occasionally get into arguments, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”

Hearing that made Yuri’s brow furrow. Arguing… with _love?_ That didn’t seem to make sense.

A hand was felt on his back and silence reigned patiently until Yuri’s head raised again. Victor tried again now that he had Yuri’s ear: “You know how sometimes when you’re frustrated you’ll yell at us or go play on your own?”

Yuri nodded expectantly.

“When you do that, you always come back, hug us, and things go back to normal, right?”

Another nod.

“It’s the same with grownups.” Yuuri added. “People who love each other lots and lots can still disagree and get frustrated, but then they make up and things go back to normal.”

After that they sat for a while, letting Yuri think. It was true that every now and then when he got tired or mad he would say mean things and storm off to be alone, and sometimes he liked to be alone. Still, afterwards he would get bored or feel lonely… and he’d always return because being away from everyone for too long was the worst. Was it really okay, though? Arguments, even if they can happen between people who love each other, do nothing but hurt. If people are hurt… can it really be okay? He looked up, expecting an answer to a question he hadn’t asked.

Giving a final rub of his eye, Victor nodded with a faint sniff. “Yuuri and I do argue, just like you argue with us sometimes; but we still love each other.”

After Victor said that Yuuri spoke up a second time, this time with a face straightened in a serious but non-threatening expression, which made Yuri pay special attention. Before Yuuri spoke, however, him and Victor shared a careful look. “But Yuri, I need you to understand something, do you think you can listen extra hard for me?”

In response, Yuri gave a heavy nod. 

“It’s okay to disagree but we have never made each other feel hurt, whether it be in our hearts or our bodies.”

No… hurting? 

Yuri loosened his facial expression slightly. “Not even pushing?”

Victor cut in: “definitely no pushing.”

“So… it’s like when I argue with you both…” Yuri sat, wrapping his head around everything they said. To think that grown-ups could argue like kids did, and it didn’t always have to be like that? There didn’t have to be tears or things breaking… it could be… okay? Because when he argued with Victor and Yuuri he would get mad, and feel sad, but when he apologised and hugged them it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he would feel happy again. 

_Happy_ … his awareness of that emotion had only become present once he realised he was really wanted for the first time. He was still wanted?

Yuri perked up. “I understand… so, you two aren’t unhappy because you have to look after me?”

The reply was shakes of the head from both men. “Of course not, kitten. Wherever did you get that idea?”

He was going to answer, only he then recognised that he didn’t have one anymore. Instead, he shallowly shrugged in shame. “I dunno.”

“I’d say the opposite was true. You’ve made our lives even better.” 

Wide eyes bobbed into view and glittered in amazement, triggering wide smiles.

“I did?” he almost gasped. He could see that their eyes had begun to stop reddening.

“Obviously, you’re our little Yura, after all.” Victor beamed.

“What about skating?” Yuri poked further, to rid all doubt in his mind.

“Our time on the rink ended years ago, long before we met you.”

Yuri’s mouth was open, but closed it because he remembered that he could catch flies by doing so. Years?

“And besides, we need to devote all our time to getting you a gold medal, don’t we, Vitya?”

“Five gold medals, if I’m correct.” Victor winked.

“Six.” Yuuri countered with a cheeky poke at his husband’s nose.

“Seven” 

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

That’s not nearly enough, he grumbled, surely anyone could get nine gold medals. He shot up, interrupting the two of them and spreading his arms wide and fanning his fingers out as far as they could go. “Twenty!” He cheered.

“Twenty!?” Yuuri gaped.

“Yeah, twenty! Or, whatever is more than both of you!” He affirmed with a proud nod.

Victor’s mouth curled into a cunning smirk. “Ah, so you’re planning to surpass us, huh?”

“Duh! I’m gonna sur… surpack…” he began loudly before he muttered.

“Surpass.”

He bolted upright again. “Yeah, I’m gonna _surpass_ both of you, _and_ be better than you too!” 

Victor laughed. “We’ll have to work super hard training you then.”

“But before all of that, why don’t we have some food? Yuri’s already missed breakfast.” Yuuri reminded, shifting Yuri onto Victor’s lap, despite the child’s hesitance, and rising up from his seat.

“Yes, of course. I’m starved. What do you want to eat, Yura?” Victor inquired, folding his arms over Yuri’s upper body.

 

After pondering for a moment with a thinking finger to his chin, Yuri piped up. “Hot chocolate, and cookies.”

Yuuri stifled a laugh with his hand. “Okay, but I’ll have to make sandwiches too. Oh, and you’ll need some cold medicine too, kitten.”

While the idea of medicine made his stuffy nose scrunch up in disgust, the promise of hot chocolate kept him from complaining. 

 

Before Yuuri could walk from the room, Yuri called out one more time. “Don-don?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll wash up afterwards.” Yuri said seriously.

“Huh?” both men reacted.

“Why?” Victor asked.

“Because, if you both are going to get so _dramatic_ about it like you did this morning, I should probably do it.” Yuri replied, deciding to take on responsibility like a mature adult.

Instead of getting a mature adult response, however, both men exchanged looks before bursting out in uncontrollable laughter.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Yuri pouted over the men who strained tears in the corner of their eyes as they clutched their stomachs. “What’s so funny!?”

 

Yuri sat, having taken the cold medicine, with the blanket curled around him at both men’s insistence despite his protests; Yuuri in the kitchen preparing a late-ish lunch and Victor in the armchair beside him, monitoring him while the bright television played in the background. Everything seemed… lighter, even those two seemed more content.

Reflecting on everything that happened that day, Yuri should’ve known that running away would never solve anything, now that Yuuri and Victor had told him to always go to them when there is something wrong; because they liked him a lot and so they’d be able to help him make it better. That went for cuts on his knee after falling over, help on perfecting a skating move, or if he felt upset. If only he knew that before he ran out in early morning and got a cold. He sneezed. 

“Gesundheit” Victor said. Yuri didn’t know what that meant.

He really was lucky, he thought. To have people to want him as much as Yuuri and Victor did. 

 

From the corner of his eye, a furry figure stood by the door. Yuri sat up slightly, so he could watch Makkachin pad over to the edge of the sofa with something in his mouth. He felt the dog nudge his nose at his feet, so Yuri craned over to reach out. From in between the dog’s jaws a wet, fluffy object was taken. Looking at it closer, he saw that it was Kitty, though she had been dampened and greyed. She would need a wash but… she was still Kitty, so Yuri hugged her to his chest. 

Glancing up again, Makkachin was climbing on the sofa, and he sat, tongue lolling, on the seat next to him. 

Yuri looked him up and down as he heard his tail slap against the furniture. He appeared to be waiting for something, or perhaps he was just there to watch over him, like he usually did. Small fingers reached out and patted the top of Makkachin’s head, to which the tail whacked even harder. Round, black glossy globes gazed heartily at tired emerald orbs that still had lingers of sleep in their corners. Quietly, Yuri considered him. This was the dog who had joined Yuri through his quest despite not exactly knowing himself what he was expecting to find. The dog who persisted and gave affection despite Yuri’s initial avoidance of him. The dog that found Yuuri and Victor again and saved him from being lost forever. The dog that stayed loyal to him despite everything…

…Victor was right.

His lip wobbled. Flinging himself onto Makkachin, Yuri hugged the dog as it excitedly wagged and panted at the affection, and burrowed his face into the warm fur on the canine’s coat.

“Thank you, Makka.” Yuri smiled as he was licked on the cheek before then immersing himself in the embrace while the soft noises of everyday life surrounded him.

**Author's Note:**

> wow, i really do have a thing for miscommunication and make up sessions, huh? and also cold weather apparently?  
> the real question is... what happened to the pancakes that were cooking at the beginning??????? the syrup, man, what happened???
> 
> im kinda happy with this, but maybe i'll have to come back some day and tweak a few things. just so you know, this has been in the works for a while, and with some free time before the end of summer i knew i could use my powers of SPONTANEOUS☆INSPIRATION to surge through and complete it. with this i can say that at the end of the season that i actually was somewhat productive, so i'm happy with myself ☆☆
> 
> ☆ if anyone can find anything that looks a bit weird, doesn't make sense or perhaps find any grammatical or punctuation mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them! ☆
> 
> hope you enjoyed!!! ☆


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